


Fanning The Flames

by ChainedYetAdrift



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChainedYetAdrift/pseuds/ChainedYetAdrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the heating system of the Asylum malfunctions, some seek out some of the more unorthodox methods to cool off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fanning The Flames

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my twisted imagination. 

A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply another product of three options: too much smutty imagination, too much time on my hands to help it thrive, and many people demanding more of the first.

Pairing: Oliver Thredson/Lana Winters. 

****

92° Fahrenheit 

In frustration, Oliver tapped his index finger several times on the thermostat on the wall in his office, watching the little red needle pointer inside it jiggle from his abuse and yet it didn’t budge. He knew it wasn’t broken, but there’s nothing wrong with a little false hope. Briarcliff’s heating system had begun to malfunction sometime after 11:00a.m. today so it was near sweltering inside while outside was a comfortably mocking 55°. He sighed and plopped down in his chair behind the desk, his brow dotted with beads of sweat and he looked over to the clock hanging on the wall secured behind a protective casing of metal wire.

7:37p.m.

Several bursts of white lightning pierced through the window behind his chair, illuminating the room like the broken flash of a camera as the thunderstorm outside that had been brewing for the past 2 hours continued to rage on with a fury. He sagged down in his chair and his dark eyes scanned over the pile of paperwork still awaiting his attention, but he just couldn’t focus in this god forsaken temperature. It was hot, stuffy, and just as equally sticky and he leaned all the way back, tilting his head to gaze up at the window that quietly laughed back at him for being bolted shut. He rolled the white sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows and wiped at the sweat collecting on his face. But it wasn’t just the rise in temperature of the building that was gnawing at him. No, this was different. Several times throughout the day, he had been struggling with another type of heat altogether that he was all too familiar with. It burned its way through his thoughts and insides like a piece of paper thrown into a flame, eating away at it until it had devoured every last blackening, writhing bit. It was the aching heat of a desire he thought was once long buried.

The urge to step outside and feel the cool rush of the storm’s winds and rain pouring down onto his dark hair and heated skin to help bring his aggravated mind a moment’s peace suddenly sprung him up out of his chair and after grabbing his cigarettes, he made his way out of the door. 

The halls of the asylum were deathly quiet as the inmates were already medicated and placed on lockdown due to the heat to keep them comfortable and out of trouble, but it seemed as if it were more to save the staff’s overheated and frazzled nerves rather than the patients. Slipping a cigarette between his lips, Oliver turned the corner to another hallway of cells, the stealthy padding of his black shoes barely a whisper over the cement floor as he moved. And as he began to finger his dress shirt pocket for his silver lighter, he heard a small feminine whimpering coming from one of the cells. 

He stopped in his tracks, his dark brow creased as he looked along the corridor. But he was only greeted with silence and just as he resumed his path, the sound returned, this time louder than the last. He stopped and removed the cigarette from his lips, sliding it into his pocket as he slowly proceeded to follow the sound of the voice as if it were calling to him. 

The whisper of a name drifted from the cell to his right followed by a small moan and Oliver crept up to the cell’s metal door belonging to who he knew to be only one person…. The same person that had been haunting his thoughts since their therapy session today and was the culprit that was continuing to spark that gnawing craving within him even after she was long gone from his sight. Slowly, Oliver peeked through the metal screen and his eyes widened the moment they absorbed the shocking display going on within the cell walls. From what he could see in the dim light of her room, Lana Winters was atop the worn out mattress on her bed with her blue gown pushed up around her waist and her soft, naked rump hoisted in the air. His dark eyes widened behind his rounded glasses and he immediately darted to the right, hiding from sight. 

Oliver’s brows knit together as his mind began to race with what he’d just witnessed and immediately he felt that same familiar, unbridled heat hurtling straight to his groin. The sound of her whimpering voice drifted through the small metal screen again and he scrunched his eyes tight and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the hungering storm. He knew he shouldn’t be here…. He was supposed to be keeping things inconspicuous until his ploy to take her home with him was well underway. There would plenty of time to explore these options later. Yet, the sight of her earlier today continued to drift through his thoughts like a lingering fog that just wouldn’t clear. As he listened to her quiet sighs and moans, he couldn’t force himself to separate from her door. With the help of an already weakened resistance to temptation, Oliver found himself slowly peering back into the metal screen again to let his wandering eyes fill their forbidden appetite of the self gratification going on only a few feet from his grasp. 

Lana’s face was pressed to her pillow, muffling the little feminine noises escaping her throat as she sought to escape her current distasteful reality. The window above her bed flashed a white, slanted rectangular box of light over the pale skin of her bottom, giving it an almost ethereal glow with every crack of lightning. Oliver swallowed hard as he witnessed those small fingers of hers sliding continuously into her soppy wet sex. Even from where he was standing, he could see they glistened with a slippery wetness that all but dripped down her thighs and he unconsciously licked his lips then let a tiny sigh escape from between them as the stirring of that abandoned excitement rushed through his very core. Suddenly it felt like it was roasting as the heat of the building danced with the heat from the naughty visions creeping under his skin and he hurriedly reached up and pulled his grey necktie to let more air fan the blaze burning with him without abandon. Her bottom began to wiggle as her fingers continued to work between her parted thighs and she sighed and cooed into her pillow as her fingers worked desperately to capture her release.

Oliver stole a quick glance down either side of the darkened hall of cells lining the walls to the double doors at the end, satisfied to see that every direction was empty. Since the patients were confined, Sister Jude’s henchmen turned guards were probably off somewhere playing cards or God knows whatever else they could get themselves into for entertainment in the wee hours of the night. The strain of the swelling within his brown slacks that he had been refusing to acknowledge had grown aggravatingly confining. Since her aversion-conversion therapy this morning, the arduous and torturing struggle to maintain his self-control had steadily been a seven hour long fall from grace. And as the very picture of what tormented him so stared him back in the face, he realized he was tired of the fight. She was so damned close and his face burned with embarrassment of what he was about to do.

He took one more glance down the halls then quickly and quietly began to undo his belt, his hands pulling the tails of his white dress shirt free and he lodged an impatient hand into his white underwear. Looking down, he let out a heavy relieved breath as he watched his thick fingers encircle the straining erection he had been trying unsuccessfully to fight off. During her therapy, Lana had been reluctant; he could see it in her eyes as he watched her attempt to masturbate in front of him. He would never forget the way she continued to stare at him. But she wasn’t the only one fighting. It had taken all of his will to finally tell her to focus on her assistant Daniel and not himself. 

Lana’s soft sighs pulled him from his thoughts and he peered back inside the little wire screen of her cell door and saw her still on her knees and her hips shift as she began to ride her own fingers buried between her spread thighs.

If Sister Jude were to come through those double doors at the end of the hall, he knew she would either banish him from the facility for good or lock him away as a blasphemous pervert. He knew this was wrong… very wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself. And against his better judgment, his dark eyes gazed back into that little metal screen that served as a window to his darkest desires.

The display Lana had shown him earlier hadn’t been a fraction of this and he realized with a bitter distaste that she hadn’t given the treatment her absolute all and the more he watched her, the more his shameless thoughts mingled into lustful forms of punishment for wasting his time. His eyes remained glued to her bottom, taking in every forbidden detail while he had the chance. His palms began to sweat and his fingers squeezed his shaft in a building rhythm to match the one she’d set, mimicking the sensation that it was he who was inside of her instead of her own fingers, that it was he who was causing her to whimper and mewl into her pillow. His hand moved slowly at first, caressing the soft heated skin all the way up, but he refused to touch the bulbous, hypersensitive tip… At least not yet. He wanted to delay his release as long as possible; he needed to come when she came and not a moment sooner.

God, how he longed for the key to this door. The very idea of being able to slip inside and bury himself within the tight, slick space between her thighs under the cover of darkness had left him impossibly hard and his hand began to stroke the length of his shaft quickly as he watched her. The flurry of emotions swirling through him were not those of the usually calm and practiced doctor he’d taken pride in being, but instead those of a needy, neglected desire riddled man that refused to be ignored this time no matter how much he tried. His hand tugged at the tightened skin from base on up, squeezing tighter the further up he went. Lana switched positions, lying on her back this time, her legs spread wide and dangling over the edge of the small mattress at either side of her. His eyes took in the sight of her bright pink inner folds and Oliver’s heart rate sped up, his breath uneven as he watched her and if he didn’t know any better, he swore he could feel his pupils dilate from the sudden increase of visual stimuli being hammered into his skull. Her small triangular mound had very little hair. It was darker than the hair on her head but looked soft to the touch and he mentally envisioned what it must feel like to run his fingers through it. 

His thumb ran along the thick veins pulsing with blood beneath his fingers as lust washed through him ruthlessly and without abandon. He lifted his hand to the cell door to steady himself as he leaned against it, his stance widening as he continued to watch. Lana pulled her gown further up, exposing her bare breasts unknowingly to his eyes. Oliver slunk a little further backward into the shadows to avoid being seen as she paused what she was doing and dug in her pushed up gown pocket and pulled out the picture he of Wendy he had smuggled to her later that day in the common room. She was gazing longingly at the image as her hand snaked back down her belly to the wet space between her thighs and the name of the woman who was mentally bringing her such pleasure slipped secretly from her lips. The breathy sound fluttered about between his ears, teasing and tempting. Lana clutched the picture to her breast and her back arched as she trailed her fingers up the folds of her sex until she found the little round nub at the apex of her mound. Oliver stared, entranced as her hips began to buck lightly against those dancing fingers, his own fingers working desperately against his shaft for release as they were finally allowed to make contact with the soft, heated tip. They squeezed and pinched the soft flesh between them, spreading the moisture that had been collecting there as he stroked and he ran the tips of his fingers along the sensitive crease at the underside of his shaft. 

Lana’s small whispered cries filled his mind as her hips twisted before his eyes, her nude form covered in a thin sheen of sweat that almost gleamed with each strike of lightening pouring into the windows and Oliver’s fingers sped up, no longer smooth and calculated as his hand ran almost feverishly up and down his length. Desperate. Her fingers quickened pace as well as her fingertip circled that tiny bundle of nerves and suddenly, her thighs snapped together, her back arching from the force of her release. Oliver felt his muscles tighten, his own back arching as his explosive release plowed through him, sending trembling shivers throughout his tall form and his mind coiling to snap into a burst of scattering white nothingness. He bit his bottom lip, his eyes screwed shut as the air in his lungs went still and he let the tiniest strangled whine sound within his throat, mingling in the air with her own muted cries. He leaned his full weight against the door while his seed oozed quietly from his tip, his fingers stroking himself slowly as his half lidded eyes watched it pool into a small white puddle between his shoes in front of the crack under the door. 

As the wandering sensation of his release filled his veins with a sense of blessed calming euphoria, Oliver let out a heavy sigh while his skin felt the day’s worth of heat evaporate from his skin and his body beginning to cool.

The storm outside seemed to be tapering as well as the flashes of lightening grew fewer and far between. Slowly he peered back into Lana’s cell while lazily reaching up to adjust himself back into his underwear and zip up his slacks. His shirt remained unbuttoned, revealing his white tank underneath and his leather belt followed soon after while he watched Lana adjust her blue gown back down her belly as well and curl over onto her side, still clutching Wendy’s picture tightly to her.

He let his gaze wander over her now still form once more before drawing himself away, dragging his fingers along the cell door as he went to resume his path down the hall, retrieving his abandoned cigarette from his shirt pocket and slipping it between his lips. Finding his lighter, he lit the end of the toxic stick between his lips and inhaled the fumes deeply as he moved. 

As he neared the end of the darkened hall, one of the Asylums aides, Carl, came around the corner. He eyed Oliver and his disarray of clothing as he passed and said “I know it’s hot, but you may want to button up, Doc. There’s a lot of perverts within these walls.” 

Oliver turned around, walking backward as he removed the cigarette from his lips, exhaling a billow of white smoke. “Well you’d be surprised Carl. There’s a bit of them in all of us whether we acknowledge it or not.” 

“You therapists…” Carl said with half a chuckle as he continued to walk. “Whatever you say, Doc.”

He gave the guard a knowing look and turnaround to disappear around the corner, pushing through the two front doors of the asylum and stepping outside, letting the cooler air and heavy splattering raindrops cascade over his skin and gratefully cleanse the remnants of his misdeeds away with them.

 

====End====

 

A/N: Thanks for reading!


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